Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Looking Around, Smiling

Today, I could really believe spring has arrived. The storm that blew through here, over the weekend, was the most winter we had all season, bringing snow, hail, plenty of rain, and deeply cold temperatures across the county. But today? Blue skies, warmer breezes, and that shift in the light... something brighter, longer lasting.

I'll have to remember not to let the longer days fool me... I always wind up starting dinner and bedtime later and later. Wouldn't it be great if we could live our days by the sun? Never mind school start times, and the schedules of the outside world, just follow the clocks we have inside. I guess that's why I am always eager for summer, for the liberties of fewer have to's.

I digress. I was going to write about happy sights. Simple.

The daffodils are making me smile. I brought them home closed tight, and they've all burst open. They look perfectly whimsical, almost silly, utterly playful. They remind me of teacups and saucers.

The hens are sitting in the shark cage until they lay. No more surprise nests! By afternoon, they are free to romp and scratch in the wide open. We are getting a nice inventory. Small, but plenty. I love seeing all the eggs, together, their pretty forms and colors, the prospect of making something special.

More happy sights! My walnut rolling pin... a thrift shop find, vintage, and made locally. My bird hanger, and the pretty measuring spoons Holly gave me one birthday, my aprons, too... happiness. And a new delight, the feed bag turned shopping bag... a thoughtful and fun gift from Patricia and Michael. They know the young lady making these, and when I learn her name, and where she sells, I will share it here.

Spring. It's here. Not perfect, not wholly peaceful and neat, but I am thankful. I can look around and find plenty of reasons to smile... not just for the things, but also for the reminders of people I love, the blessings I enjoy. And I am hoping you can look around, where you are, and smile, too.

3 comments:

You are so right about living by the sun. I was just saying that to my husband. Also, I never really thought I'd look forward to summer until I had a school aged child. It's hard to shuttle, pack lunches, parent teacher meetings, etc. I'm ready for wandering.

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Time Travel

Liberty, 2013

Chirp-Chirp-Chirp BirdHouse Notes

Sorry. I am practicing freedom of expression:

Wholly shite! I just saw our share of the travel expense for robotics, and I am peeling myself off the floor from sticker shock. In 2 minutes I found 5 highly rated ABNB places where Maria and I could stay for 1/3 the rate. It's not that I am "cheap." It's that I am cheap and have no income, and hope to save for my golden years, or at least put one more kid through college. It's supposed to be inappropriate to talk about money, tacky, I know, but I think it's highly inappropriate to spend beyond my means, or pretend as if I can keep up with the Joneses.

*sigh*

It's not as though it's fatal, but I do feel nauseated.

March 20, 2019

1:29 pm

Instagram... lots of thought about that, and questions. I have the kind of questions about IG that I'd rather not ask aloud, because inevitably it would only demonstrate my insecurity. But here goes... why don't more users demonstrate a little more reciprocity, some like for like engagement, a bit of kindness, gratitude, or even genuine humility? Social media algorithms seem to go right for my jugular, or maybe only my ego.

Laugh out loud: a beautiful woman posted a selfie, with agonizing apologies for doing so, because in her words, "I never do this! I can't believe I am posting a selfie, but sometimes it's ok to be 'out there!'" I thought she was being so modest and humble, and it intrigued me, so I went to her page... and it was true: there were hardly any selfies on her wall, but there was not a single picture that didn't include her. Her entire IG was hundreds and hundreds, adding up to thousands, of pictures of her.

March 20, 2019

12:52 pm

Ten minutes ago I sat down with the intention of blogging. I frequently "intend" to blog. I fancy that I am taking a break, not broken-up. But, once again, I am derailed by something technical and my Google search is not yielding a solution. I sit here, increasingly aggravated, and my shoulder and neck begin to wince and whine, and I ask, "Why? Why pursue this? Is it out of habit? Certainly, by now, I must realize that this blog will not be my career, a literary accomplishment, noteworthy for..." never mind. My point becomes muddled, my thoughts self-deprecating. I miss keeping stories and details, adding to the memory book, and as I get older, I can truly appreciate the practical benefits of the reminders and place holders this blog has created... I will really want to kick myself if I don't continue writing down even small facts, that in years to come will make us smile, or help us keep records straight.

But. As I said... something in iPhoto won't talk to my phone and I can't import pictures. I am so behind. At least, that is how I feel, because I want to be caught up, I want to share all the happy things we have seen, or accomplished, our triumphs, and things we have conquered, tamed, or turned over. I don't feel like it's anything I am obliged to do, it's just what I wish, for my own sense of satisfaction... our pictures, and memories, jotted down and saved, for happiness sake. Sometimes, I feel a bit of relief thinking that as I have been away awhile, most people will have forgotten about Chikebbllog by now (however I spell it) and that I can slip back in and just go on and on about my favorite socks, and how the sweet peas are taking over, and not concern myself a bit that I never did write a book, or talk to Terry Gross.

Maybe I am relieved to not be blogging, because I hate the moment that, inevitably, arises when I feel compelled to share something of the accident, the one back in December. How can I help it? It clouds my head, still, and gives me nightmares, pain, anxiety, and a stutter. Not a very bad one, because I find that if I speak slowly, or not at all, it's not so noticeable. On Saturday, I cried half a day, because I was served another subpoena. It's "only" 2 different hearings/trials, but they keep changing the dates, and then comes a new subpoena. And do you know what troubles me? What will I wear? Because... "first impressions" and all that, and really, I cannot go dressed comfortably, as myself, in jeans and a t-shirt that says "Take a bus, you drunk fool." No. I will have to go and face her and her attorney, dressed as me, myself, and I am sorry to say that I will appear as a gray, fat, old woman, that flinches when doors slam, or cars honk. I would rather stay home.